


Rules of Engagement

by belana



Category: Korean Drama, 감격시대 : 투신의 탄생 | Inspiring Generation
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 22:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4117507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belana/pseuds/belana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a little something about Mo, the leader of the Chinese family from Dandong, and the leader of the Korean quarter in Shanghai, Shin Jung-Tae</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rules of Engagement

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Правила боя](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/120814) by Серафита. 



When after the first sparring Leader Mo pushed him into the floor it didn’t even occur to Jung-Tae to complain. Mo forcefully gripped the back of his head. Light as a feather during the sparring, Mo was lying on top of him so he could barely breathe – and not because Jung-Tae couldn’t fight back. Such a trifle as a difference in strength never bothered him.

The point was Jung-Tae wasn't trying to fight back.

If it occurred to him to articulate vague associations and images floating in his head that lead him to accept the will of another man he'd have said it was all about the victory, about unspoken rules that every fighter nevertheless knew. Mo had the right of a winner, the fight was fair, no catch, so...

In a sense Mo Il-Hwa offered him a square deal.

That was the whole point. Jung-Tae considered him to be in his right, so there was no sense in struggling. That first time Mo had his way with Jung-Tae, and a week later the latter came to the inconspicuous house in Dandong again – for another lesson.

The story repeated itself. Neither Mo, nor Jung-Tae talked about it - then or afterwards. Silence was another unspoken rule. Each time after practicing a new move Mo challenged him to a fight, won it and plowed him as if he were a woman.

Thus it went on until once Jung-Tae counterattacked (a fist to the side) and sent Mo flying to the floor. The maneuver was quick and unthinking - Jung-Tae himself didn't register it at first.

Jung-Tae became scared out of his mind only when he reached his rented shoe box of a room (only god knew how he'd managed that). He thought that next time he approached the familiar house the doors would be closed. Mo always addressed him politely, offered tea and strange Chinese dishes, but now Jung-Tae would not be allowed to enter the inner yard reserved for training - not because he managed to defeat Mo, but because Mo could decide that he had nothing else to teach.

In a week they said their good-byes in a small park near the railway station. Uncharacteristically Mo was dressed in a European suit and looked rather grave and alien. Nevertheless Jung-Tae hugged him, Mo smiled in return just like before. Despondent and loyal Won-Pyeong lingered close by. Jung-Tae remembered this hug, strange and unfamiliar experience for him since he was more accustomed to blows - along with the only kisses he received from two girls and rare occasions when Chung-A caressed his hair when he was too beaten up to fall asleep.

Four years later a hug seemed to be the only proper greeting, and Mo accepted it. He spared one intense stare on Jung Jae-Hwa and then talked only with Jung-Tae. _Weighted and measured,_ Jung-Tae thought. The Shanghai club was a tempting prize, and Mo Il-Hwa was not in the habit of backing out. Jung-Tae's presence and the fact that Seol Doo-Sung "forgot" to mention him to Mo were the only Jung Jae-Hwa's chance of keeping the club. Mo couldn't stand the attempts to take advantage of him.

Sometimes Jung-Tae still puzzled over the question why he chose to live here, in Shanghai. Poong-Cha was a father for him for much longer than the Shanghai Eagle because he was there for three years, not three meetings. Poong-Cha sacrificed his life for him while Shin Yeol-Chool sent his mother to Sinuiju, didn't visit her for years on end and left her no savings when he ended up in jail. Jung-Tae's only inheritance from him were debts and heaviness of heart.

The day before the fight for the Shanghai club Mo said twiddling a cup of wine in his hands, "I used you, you know. Your father saved my life, that's true, but I pulled you out of Il Gook Hwe because I needed the Tobinori gang indebted to me."

"Everyone used me," Jung-Tae replied after a pause, "but you were the only one who chose to save my life as a means to do it."

"Repay twofold for good, repay tenfold for evil," Mo murmured with a sad smile staring into the cup.

The next day Jung-Tae got his victory. There was a shadow in Mo's eyes that wasn't there yesterday, and Won-Pyeong who almost carried his master away whispered into Jung-Tae's ear that Seol Doo-Sung knew where Mo's family lived. Jung-Tae tucked that bit away. Seol Doo-Sung's list of debts kept growing, Jung-Tae planned to get even with him sometime soon.

What Jung-Tae didn't expect was Mo who appeared on his doorstep two days later. The attempt to rescue Ok-Ryeon from the intelligence office failed, Sung Woo-Jin couldn't enter the building anymore, Jung-Tae was worried sick. He didn't understand at first why Mo came.

"You won a fight," Mo said. Under the cheongsam his torso was one purplish-black bruise.

"Don't humiliate me," he added and smiled like he always did - full of meaning and not meaning anything at all at the same time. Jung-Tae exhaled.

Mo's eyes were laughing: _I can still read your face like an open book. I know,_ Jung-Tae thought. _Believe me, I do_.

Mo got into the bed and jerked him forward. Jung-Tae was wary of touching hot, painfully tight skin, but it was impossible to insult Mo with refusal. Jung-Tae flopped down on his hands and knees like a cat, shook his head feeling a sickening wave of panic overwhelm him. He suddenly realized that he never faced Mo during all those months in Dandong. Four years ago Jung-Tae always left Mo's house without reflecting on what passed between them after sparrings. It had nothing to do with Gaya or Ok-Ryeon, it was different: the thing that only existed within the training ground.

It was not like anything Jung-Tae experienced before. The thoughts in Jung-Tae's head were erratic and vague, the body acted on its own - on instinct like during a fight. Then again, Mo complimented his instincts... Jung-Tae never encountered sheath tighter with any woman he has been with (no, it never occurred to him to touch Ok-Ryoen, some things are not done with honest girls, but there are other, not quite honest ones, and things you are ashamed to remember while holding your girlfriend's hand).

He also thought hazily that Leader Mo rarely lost a fight, and it obviously happened a while ago.

Pale and thin Ok-Ryoen returned a week later with a signed contract in her purse and a too bright smile. Jung-Tae could not get her out of town right away. He thought that it might be reasonable to send her to... even Sinuiju for a while - for a couple of months, for example. Then again, it could be a terrible idea while Denkai Aoki was so powerful.

Anyway, Dandong could also do.

So-So was constantly following Mo Il-Hwa.

"I don't understand why Leader Mo tolerates your idiocy," she complained. "Your head is full of dung! I can't imagine how you could have won."

She reminded Jung-Tae of a cute, but tiresome puppy: she annoyed and amused him in equal measure. He couldn't understand what Mo thought about her - as always.

Jung-Tae could tell her that after a fight with Mo he was still able to walk away on his own. That he managed to function for another day and two nights, that he even endured an encounter with Aoki. While Mo was able to stand only twenty four hours later... No, he was not the kind of man to concede on purpose. What happened on the day the Shanghai club opened was a fight. A violent one, but all the rules still applied. Mo Il-Hwa, unlike Jung-Tae, was a killer. During the fight he could have broken Jung-Tae's neck or crushed his throat at least twice - but it was a fight, and he lost it.

Jung-Tae had few questions he never wanted to know answers to, the result of a fight to death with Mo Il-Hwa was one of them.

He asked Mo about So-So once. She didn’t look like a woman he would choose, but Jung-Tae was curious.

"So-So?" Mo laughed. He was reading another financial report on the Shanghai club that Jung-Tae didn't even understand. "I have a two-year-old daughter in Dandong. And So-so's half-Korean anyway."

He was so unprejudiced that Jung-Tae had completely forgotten about the general dislike toward half-bloods in general and Koreans in particular. Won-Pyeong, Mo's right hand man, was only half Chinese, and Mo took him in when no one else would. In return Won was absolutely loyal to him.

"She could be only a concubine, my family would have never accepted her," he added sadly. "She seems to be a decent girl..."

The Chinese community, especially the old respected clans, were very closed societies. It was no wonder that Mo got married among his own during those four years. Jung-Tae knew that he had a family in Quando: aunts, cousins, a dozen of nieces. Mo used to joke about a house full of women. Jung-Tae pitied So-So. She should have listened to her father, that old dung-eater, and chosen a boy from Bamsanton.

A confrontation with Il Gook Hwe or Hwan Ban separately was a suicide for a small, illegal Korean quarter. Jung-Tae asked Mo to side with him against both of them.

"A man who moved a mountain started with moving pebbles from one place to another," he said.

"God, you picked up too many Chinese sayings from me," Mo murmured and agreed.

This whole strange life full of bustle and battles ended rather abruptly. Jung-Tae won his little war. Ok-Ryoen became his wife, but didn't go to Dadndong or even visit Sinuiju. She stayed forever in Shanghai mixing her ashes with the waters of Suzhou. Jung-Tae felt only emptiness looking at pale and tired Gaya. Everything that they had had completely burned out. Mo said his good-byes even before that.

After putting Chong-A to bed Jung-Tae went into the bustling night of Bamsanton. People in the streets bowed to him.

He didn't know where he was going, but he ended up in front of an inconspicious gates in a solid wall around a tall stone house. In Dandong Mo preferred folding screens and light carved lattices...

Jung-Tae imagined what he'd say during their next meeting: _I thank you, Leader Mo. You saved my life twice. There is no favor you can't ask of me._

The house was quiet and empty. Mo has probably left. Jung-Tae opened the gate without thinking...

Mo was awake, a lamp lighted the sitting room. Jung-Tae forgot his speech completely.

He only managed to mumble something pathetically confusing and inarticulate about a shoulder that he had a chance to cry on. That memory of eight years still made him blush fiercely: he didn't use Mo's silk cheongsam as a handkerchief, but only just. Jung-Tae still heard his own choked sobs and felt an excruciating pain when it seemed that he couldn't even breathe. He still saw Mo Il-Hwa's dispassionate face, he sat by the bed. He gave Jung-Tae a chance to cry over Poong-Cha's death and then left - as calm and quiet as ever taking with him the weight of Jung-Tae's despair and not leaving his own behind. He was a leader without a gang. He was a leader of a dead gang. Three weeks later he invited Jung-Tae for a sparring for the first time.

"Don't mention it," Mo smiled in return and poured him more tea. "My shoulder is always at your disposal, Shirasoni."

Jung-Tae won many fights with Mo, but he lost even more.


End file.
